


la voie d’amour

by theneighbourhoodfanboy



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: 1950s, France 1950s, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Unrequited Love, but i decided to post it here lol, ok so this was for my english class no joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 20:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16688476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theneighbourhoodfanboy/pseuds/theneighbourhoodfanboy
Summary: wes is an unsuccessful mime, until he meets "Sir Carter".





	la voie d’amour

**Author's Note:**

> so this was legit for my english 11 class. our prompt was "1-3 wishes from something magical. 300 words minimum" sooooo i obviously wrote wilwes. of course. thanks to my quebecois friend for this title! (uncomfortably short btw) i'm posting it here, and as soon as i do, i'm gonna email my teacher EXACTLY what y'all are reading. yeehaw!

  
  


Wes knew the act of being a mime was a silent one. Sometimes, he wished he could communicate properly. His life felt pointless without being able to speak his mind. 

 

That is, until he saw a sophisticated-looking Englishman pass by. His heart skipped a beat. 

 

The man was tall and slim, with a stack of styled black hair. His hands were covered with fingerless gloves, as he strutted confidently on the opposite side of the street. Wes felt his cheeks heat up underneath his face paint. 

He wanted to shout to the man to come closer, bathe in his beauty a little longer. But Wes knew he couldn’t. The jagged scars on his neck that he tried so desperately to cover up for the past 18 years, wouldn’t let him. 

 

Wes gazed as he watched the man round a corner, and disappear into a crowd of loud people. His heart sank back into the pit of his chest. His arms dropped to his sides, and he stared down at the cup in front of him. 

 

It was full to the brim with change and spare bills people had graciously offered. Wes picked it up, and started for home, his body feeling like it weighed a million pounds. 

 

He unlocked the door to his tiny apartment, and slammed it shut when he got inside. He dropped the coins onto his counter, letting some of them spill over. 

 

The coins clanged to the floor in a melody. Wes let out a sigh, and went to pick them up. As he was about to grab a euro, a puff of smoke seeped from it, and Wes jumped back in horror. 

 

A eerily tall man materialized from the smoke, his jet black eyes staring into Wes’s light blue ones. 

 

“Say pal,” He purred, stepping forward from the smoke. “Since you summoned me, I am at your service. My name is Sir Carter.” 

 

Wes coughed, the thick smoke burning his lungs. He stared at the man in shock. 

 

The man tilted his head to the side, confusion setting over his wrinkly features. 

 

“What’s the problem, pal? Choked up?” He mocked, leaning forward to run his hands along Wes’s cheeks. He gently pressed his forefinger on the scars across Wes’s neck. 

 

“Tell you what, pal.” Sir Carter said. “I’ll give you your vocal chords back.” 

 

Wes let out a noiseless gasp, his eyes widening. He nodded frantically. To him, Sir Carter didn’t  _ seem _ like he had anything malicious planned. 

 

Sir Carter grinned wildly, his face twisting into an unnatural curve. 

 

“You asked for it.” He grasped Wes’s throat with enough force to knock a man dead. 

 

Wes choked, trying to free himself from Sir Carter’s hold. His esophagus constricted, and the sound of his bones crunching radiated in his ears. Sir Carter whispered satanic incantations, shaking the smaller man in his tight grasp. Wes couldn’t breathe, his body screaming at him to break free. He clawed at Sir Carter’s hands, his nails scratching into the soft flesh. 

 

Sir Carter suddenly dropped the mime to the ground. Wes felt weak and helpless. He was at the mercy of Sir Carter. 

 

_ End me.  _ He thought, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 

But Sir Carter didn’t. He just laughed. 

 

“You have been cured!” Sir Carter bellowed. “The voice of the mime has been returned!”

 

Wes cracked open an eye, looking directly at Sir Carter. His hand found its way to his neck, to find that it wasn’t broken, nor bruised. The rough scars no longer existed. His heart filled with joy.

 

“Thank...you,” Wes croaked, trying to adjust to his newfound vocal chords. “How must I repay you?”

 

Sir Carter laughed again, and waved it off. “No need, pal. Go out and find that man you were swooning over.” 

 

Wes’s face lit up like fireworks, but faded in the same amount of time it came. 

 

“H-how do you know?” His cheeks were ablaze, ashamed that someone had caught him fawning over another man. “He was across the street while I was performing.” 

 

Sir Carter’s devilish grin returned, this time larger and more menacing than ever. 

 

“You will hear.” He murmured.

 

Wes only had a few seconds to ponder.

 

A gunshot rang through Wes’s apartment building, seemingly from outside. He bolted to the curtains, unaware of Sir Carter’s low cackling. 

 

The yelling and hollering of people outside didn’t mask the body on the road. 

 

Wes screamed silently, his hands covering his mouth. Tears flowed from his eyes in a waterfall. 

 

There was the man, a pool of blood surrounding the gunshot wound in his head. 

 

Sir Carter strolled up from behind Wes, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. He gave a small chuckle. 

 

“That man there is Wilson P. Higgsbury.” Sir Carter leaned his mouth next to Wes’s ear. “He liked you too. He came by every day to see you perform. The poor soul.”

 

Wes couldn’t help but stare at the body. “Why did you have to do that?” He wiped the tears from his red eyes.

 

Sir Carter shrugged. “Karma, I guess.” He waved to Wes, happily. “Good luck, pal!”

 

And he was gone, as quickly as he arrived. Leaving Wes alone in his apartment, the dead body of his loved one on the street.


End file.
